Graceling II: Revenge of the Grace
by The Magnanimous Cockroach
Summary: With the Evil King population soaring out of control, two scientists and a teenage girl are left to save Graceland once again. But will technology prevail in this day and age, or will all of Graceland be devoured by Evil Kings?
1. A Frightening Parabola

Two science men Gracelings walked down a stone, but still intelligent looking, hall impatiently.

"I told you, Gerp, this is important. We have an emergency," said one to the other, briefly lowering his cool shades from his Grace man eyes. One was binary code and the other was chemical equations. He had the Grace of Smart. He had on a lab coat, but there was a three piece suit underneath that matched his cool shades. And underneath that he was wearing a cape. Then underneath the cape he had on a peasant costume, because he is an actor and this is High Fantasy here. Everyone dresses like that.

"You didn't even bother to tell me what kind, sir," his compadre responded.

"Patience, Rodle! All will be revealed when we reach the room over there," Gerp promised, cumbersomely making a simple hand motion to direct Rodle's attention to the door at the end of the hall. His sentence structure was more complicated than necessary, but it got the job done.

Rodle huffed, but followed Gerp down the hall further, their sensible shoes clicking on the floor shinily.

Once inside the room, Gerp directed Rodle's attention to a large graph poster on the far wall. The room was lined with white tables full of sciency things like test tubes and rats and machines that are too complicated for most people to know how to turn on and not break.

"Do you know what this is?" Gerp demanded.

Rodle studied the bowl-shaped line drawn in pencil on the graph paper. "No."

"It's a parabola! And it's a positive one, too."

Rodle lowered his cool shades, revealing his eyes. They had some different kinds of animals in them and a double helix or two. He had the Grace of Biology. It wasn't the same as Smart. "I... see."

"This parabola represents the influx of Evil Kings to the land of Fantasywerld."

"And?" Rodle pressed.

Retrieving a pointer from his pocket (the Grace of Smart gave him the ability to carry anything in his pocket, so long as it was intellectually stimulating, even rockets) and pointing with the pointer to the parabola, Gerp traced the portion of the line in the first quadrant of the graph, the one with all the positive numbers in it. "I did the other end because I like doing smart things, but this is the part that's important. Evil Kings are increasing at an exponential rate in this realm. Were you aware, Rodle, that right now, in the land of Graceland, there are two Evil Kings for every one normal citizen? These are _people_, Rodle. People like you and me. Only not as smart."

Rodle gasped. "Oh, god! That's awful!" He paused. "The... the Kings, I mean. Not the stupid people."

Gerp cleared his throat nervously before continuing. "Anyway, yes, at this rate there will be fifty Evil Kings for every citizen of Ooo in ten years. They reproduce asexually, you know. These people need a _hero_. They need... they need a girl. A teenage girl. One who can fight back the masses of Evil Kings in SeaWorld and return peace to our land."

"But where can we find one of those? Evil Kings are territorial creatures. Each King has his own domain and with this... exponential growth of Kings, those domains will be shrinking. The Kings will grow hostile," Rodle said, relaying his knowledge of animal behavior. "Do you really think a girl can handle that sort of mess?"

Gerp grabbed his partner by the shoulders roughly. "Get a hold of yourself, Rodle! This is _High Fantasy_! Women are liberated!"

Rodle blinked. "I mean a single person. Do you think _a single person _can handle this?"

"That's _better_," Gerp said, letting go. He wiped his hands on his lab coat. "I hope so. We have to ignore the gaping, unrealistic plot holes that litter this plan and press onward. Because if we don't, we're doomed for certain."


	2. The Prophecy is Revealed

Rodle lowered his cool shades from his eyes, then lowered the newspaper from in front of his face. "This is serious!" he exclaimed, finally grasping the reality of the situation. He stood up robotically, flushed the toilet, and discarded the newspaper on the stone but intelligent looking floor.

The camera panned ominously toward the headline, which read: "Evil Kings Overrun Middle Earth! Adopt Yours Today!"

After Rodle's frantic explanation to his partner detailing the situation of the media's spin on the situation, Gerp stared back with an expression that clearly said, "I told you so." Also, "Make me a grilled cheese sandwich." But Gerp's expression always said this, so Rodle dismissed that part.

The expression did not diminish as Gerp solemnly said, "I've seen many others like it, friend. It seems all Animal Kingdom is up in arms about this… or worse, over-enthused." He recalled a headline he'd read a day earlier: "Evil Kings: Not All That Bad?" He shuddered. It was sickening.

"This is wrong. _Wrong. _We need to do something, fast." Rodle tapped his chin with his pointer finger. "Where can we find an appropriate teenage girl?"

"I've been constructing a machine that might help," Gerp replied, gesturing toward a table. Upon it sat a few thimbles and a rubber band. "It's a work in progress."

"We're not moving fast enough!" Rodle cried, exasperated. "Soon, there won't be any teenage girls _left. _Apparently Evil Kings have a habit of keeping them in their castles to do their bidding. It's strange behavior, but—"

"EUREKA!" yelled Gerp, tearing off his outer layer of science cloak and revealing a Sailor Moon costume. "My friend, it is you, not I, who has the Grace of Smart!" Looking into Gerp's binary chemical eyes, Rodle had no choice but to believe him. It was a totally cool ego boost, but he didn't quite understand. Gerp was quick to explain. His was a Grace to be shared. "We'll find a teenage girl already in the lair of an Evil King! She'll have inside information we won't be able to find anywhere else. And the prophecy will be fulfilled."

"Prophecy?" Rodle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," said Gerp, with a concise and scientific nod. "Ever since mankind first discovered the creatures overrunning Dinosaur World, we have known only one truth: the power of a teenage girl living with an older, more evil man, is like that of no other. Why else do you think young women seek out jerks all the time? _All women are imbued with a true wish to fulfill the prophecy_."

Rodle's mouth contorted in confusion. "That's not a prophecy so much as a crass generalization."

"But a true one, Rodle! _A true one!"_

Rodle recognized the truth of the statement. Being decent, he had never once had a steady girlfriend. It all made sense now. And he'd thought it was because he liked science, or possibly because of his freakish animal-filled eyes! But now he knew otherwise. It gave him a new passion. He resolved to build a rocket made of bears and _find _this teenage girl, whatever it took. His Grace of Biology gave him the ability to assemble bears in any shape he could imagine. It was very formidable, and he had considered becoming an Evil King himself in times past. Now the thought disgusted him.

One look at Gerp and Rodle could tell his friend felt the same, except Gerp would probably build a rocket made of velociraptors, which was not quite as good as one made of bears. Together, they ripped through their current layer of clothing, revealing the superhero garb underneath.

Now they were men on a mission. A mission to rescue a woman blinded by her hideous evolutionary deficiencies. A mission to open that woman's eyes to the truth. A mission to save the world.

All in a day's work for scientists.


	3. The Game is Afoot

**Before I begin, I'd like to think the following people for the following reasons: Cloudemeh, for collaborating with me on everything except the first chapter; Fractal Moon for coming up with the name Rodle; Kristin Cashore for writing my favorite book; Coldplay for being a band. Now that credit is given, finally, where credit is due, I promise no more bolded interruptions unless they are legit important.**

Somewhere in the land of Westlington, in a city called Bulpville, a young woman was being held captive in a cell that was less like a cell and more like a pretty nice room in the palace owned by King Bulp, one of Westlington's many Evil Kings. Like most Evil Kings, King Bulp was foolish and haughty, and had a name that sort of sounded like someone swallowing vomit back down. But he was thankful for his name. At least he wasn't Ubb or Leck. That would suck.

Anyhow, the girl was held captive in the manner of being allowed to wander the castle, play with friends, eat wonderful food, and above all, ride horses, which, besides falling in love with a jerk, is the number one pastime (or daydreamed pastime) of women in general.

But nonetheless, she was very sad. She was sad because she was Graced, and therefore had to do the king's bidding. It bored her to no end. Young Padwyn (for that was her name, and it was a special one too: Most other girls who were named Padwin had it spelled that way) possessed the Grace of Feet.

Not only did Padwyn have two of her very own attached at her ankles (and she could even use them to run and kick!), she could also give the distance between any two things in feet, and had enough rulers for all of Westlington to prosper on ruler sales. She was a true blessing.

But Padwyn did not see it that way. She was absolutely convinced that the people from Westlington hated her and did their best to distance themselves out of fear. She was also convinced that she was a misfit and a reject for her bicolored Graceling eyes, which, from right to left, were iridescent white (rainbow in the right light), and deep ocean blue (almost black).

Padwyn sat balefully on the plush purple bedspread of her cell with her best friend, and the only person who she felt didn't hate her, Marcie. She sighed. "You know, Marcie, I feel like people just don't understand me. After all, the Ungraced will never understand or love the Graced, but I'm a _person_. It shouldn't be this way. I wish I didn't have to do the king's dirty work. And all I do is make rulers and measure how many feet away an invading army is or something dumb like that. Maybe if I was an assassin or something cool like that, and had a good Grace, I'd feel better, but I think I'm kind of a disappointment of a main character. You know what I mean?"

"Quack," Marcie quacked.

"Exactly," said Padwyn, nodding her head solemnly. "Marcie, you always know what to say. I guess I feel a little better now."

Marcie quacked again, making Padwyn laugh.

"You're the only source of happiness in my dark life," the Graceling said cheerfully. "I don't know what I'd do without you. Probably fall in love, but I'm so afraid of commitment. And the people here hate me anyway," Padwyn continued, tossing away a box of chocolates sent to her by an admirer. She got up off of the bed. "Make yourself comfortable, Marcie. I know you're probably wanting to be by yourself now. You always get like that."

"Quack," Marcie quacked.

"I know, I'm going, I'm going," Padwyn muttered. "I'll just be four hundred and two feet away in the courtyard if you need me," she said, closing the door. "Some people can be so irritable."

The girl strolled down to the courtyard. She was wearing a red and black dress she'd bought at Hot Topic earlier. She felt edgy. As she walked through the grass, she had some sort of private conversation with herself about how she didn't want to get married and hated children. Truthfully, I wasn't paying much attention because there was a show about lizards on the TV. Lizards are cool.

"Hey!" Padwyn yelled. "I not be very interesting, but I'm still moody and antisocial, and thus command attention! Write about what I'm doing!" Padwyn flipped her hair indignantly and its dark red streak sort of shone in afternoon sunlight. She probably should have bleached her hair before trying to dye it. She _humph_ed indignantly at the narrator's critique on her hair, then was caught off guard by an explosion in the stone wall off to her left. She ran what she knew was about forty-eight and a half feet to the source of the explosion to see what was going on.

A hand reached out of the gathering smoke cloud and grabbed her ankle, which freaked her out because her ankles were right by her feet and her feet were part of her Grace!

"Come with me, fair maiden!" coughed a voice she hoped had some correlation to the hand around her leg. "Myself and my comrade and our Mecha made of dinosaurs and bears are here to take you away from here!" For indeed, it was Rodle who spoke, and he and Gerp had forged together the individual parts of each bear and velociraptor, and then these, the most dangerous creatures of all time assembled into a giant Mecha that had shot one of its bear missiles (and Rodle) into King Bulp's courtyard.

"Velociraptors, Rodle!" Gerp commanded from inside the robot, using its microphone, which was also made of bears. "Not just dinosaurs! Don't be so indiscriminate."

Padwyn noticed that this voice had the same slight nasal accent as the first one. As Rodle crawled out of the smoke toward her, she could see his superhero costume, which made his gaunt frame seem all the gaunter. She didn't think he was very attractive, but since he appeared to be rescuing her from her prison, she would make do.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, "My time to shine as the main character! My story will finally be interesting! Or at least readable! Oh, take me away, gallant knight, and let us stop upon the nearest food court, as this lady hungers for some lo mein from the Panda Express!"

Rodle didn't quite understand what Padwyn was saying, but he figured a teenage girl was a teenage girl, and this one was what they'd been looking for. Taking her in his arms with quite a bit of labor, he hopped aboard a passing grizzly and commanded it back to the Mecha.

Padwyn briefly wondered if she ought to have gotten Marcie to come along too, but then remembered it was a main character's job to leave the ones she cared about and grow stronger, braver and less relatable to her old friends by the story's end. She figured Marcie would just have to survive on her own.

Which Marcie was doing just fine at. She'd made herself at home in Padwyn's room and was currently devouring the box of chocolates. Marcie was a veteran of explosions and robots, and they hardly fazed her anymore.


	4. The Most 4th Chapter in the Whole Fanfic

As Gerp and Rodle rode back to their castlelab with Padwyn in tow, they both had the same realization at almost exactly the same second: Padwyn was madly in love with them for saving her. Rodle felt she loved him more. Hadn't he been the one to drag her onto the grizzly bear by her ankles? Gerp felt the same way. He'd been the one piloting the Mecha, and he'd valiantly shot his best friend to the feet of the lady. Obviously, he was the man in charge.

Padwyn didn't think any of these things. Instead, she was wondering how to come out on top and looking cool in all this, as she felt main characters are wont to do. She could craft a sword out of rulers, or maybe create catchy insults by punning the word "foot" or using exact measurements: "Your mom is just over five feet tall!" She couldn't quite grasp inches, and the metric system didn't even register.

Other things that didn't register to Padwyn included anything that would've been important: Who were the men who had just taken her from her forever home? Would they be adopting again anytime soon? Where was she being taken? Why was she being taken there? Padwyn had a Grace for Feet, not common sense. Marcie had always been the sensible one in their relationship.

Just as Padwyn was on her third foot-based insult, ("These feet are made for walkin'… all over your FACE!") they made it back to Gerp and Rodle's secret laboratory. There was a guided tour going on at the moment, but the lady at the front desk promised they could come back at a later time and that tours ran until six. They took the back entrance and noiselessly slipped into the room with the parabola and all the science tables.

"Are you two Evil Kings?" Padwyn asked. "Because if this is a castle, it totally doesn't remind me of home. At all. I'm not measuring stuff for you anymore! I'm free! …Was free. Whatever."

Gerp made a disgusted face. "We're not one of _them_, Miss," he promised.

Padwyn smiled. "Okay. My name's Padwyn. It's spelled with a _y._" She flipped her hair. "This room is thirty five feet long and fifteen feet wide. I guess that's good for the long tables, right?"

"_How did you know that_?" Rodle cried. "These measurements were exact and _secret_! No one could ever find out… unless they were really good at estimating."

Padwyn shrugged. "I have the Grace of Feet. It comes out sometimes. Look." She pointed at her feet, which were clad in a pair of black Converse.

"Cool shoes," Gerp conceded. "This is an admirable Grace indeed. Mine is of Smart and my partner's is of Biology. I can carry black holes in my pocket. Want to see one?" He was totally trying to impress her.

"I don't know what those are," Padwyn giggled ignorantly. Gerp was crestfallen.


	5. Letters to the Editor

Due to desperate times (hence the desperate measures) your regularly scheduled program will henceforth be aired on a new channel: Cloudemeh. Use that author search, children.

That will be all.


End file.
